Not Exactly Love
by TeamAquaSuicune
Summary: Just what exactly happens when Frank Archer goes too heavy on the liquor after war... Rated M for lemons. Archer/OC pairing... Shutup. Blarg, my first fanfic is a lemon story... I'm bad. Occurs the year before Ed becomes a State Alchemist. Anyhoo, Enjoy


Yar, hello folks, and thanks for actually considering reading my first fanfic, which happens to be a lemon (blah, I'm terrible!) Anyways, It's OC/Canon pairing, but please don't beat me with your Mary-Sue shoes just yet, besides, were talking plastered Archer here! Well, I hope you enjoy my first completed fanfic. -TeamAquaSuicune

"Good work everyone!"

A crowd of cheering men could be heard in a small hotel in Dublith. To be specific, they were soldiers who had just won the war in an area near Youswell. As late as it was, many of the men had gone off loading their stomachs with too much beer; one of them happened to be the one leading the soldiers, Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer, a man devoted to his military duties; another way of saying that the man enjoyed war. The solitary man never really drank much, but when he got his occasions, he would predictably overdo himself. However, for a drunken man, he was still pretty stable. His speech was a tad slurry, but still pretty understandable. One look at his flushed face though, and even a fool could tell he had more than his share of the liquor. He rested his head against the wooden counter of the bar. His fourth pint of liquor was almost immediately absorbed, clenched in his hand. He hiccupped, and chuckled for no reason at all. Getting off his stool, the drunk began to lean against the staircase to his left.

"Ah, I love a good fight." He cheered rather loudly to himself; he began to stretch his arms, "We showed them who's the real deal of these parts, am I right, men?" His men, in their own little worlds of wasted state, cheered loudly with him. Archer raised his empty flask high in the air, "A toast to the best of my soldiers! Drink to the core!" The troops roared, some even falling off their chairs, in their patriotism. Frank sipped whatever droplets were left of the liquor; he hiccupped. In his stupor, Frank swayed, walking up the stairs. He mumbled to himself, "I'm gonna go get some fresh air..."

In the hallways upstairs, Jean Sullivan, a timid woman about 29 years of age was in her hotel room. Tired from the war, she was glad she was finally able to sleep in a decent bed instead of a flat cold cot. She had just taken a warm shower; hence her long hair was dangling in clumps. She was in a light nightgown, reaching down to her knees.Although her body was pretty much exhausted from the battle, she wanted to at least reward her weakened spirit with a small sip of wine or two. Hopefully she could regain some of the weight she lost from this war. Brushing her hair back, she headed out the door to her room, into the hallway, where many sober men were gathered, chit-chatting. Barefoot on the wooden floor, she quickly moved to get downstairs until she bumped into a familiar face.

His pale skin, his deep icy-blue eyes, and his hair as dark as his heart: It was obviously Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer.

She bluntly backed up from her superior, blushing. Although oblivious to the Lieutenant Colonel, many of the soldiers were well aware of Jeans affections towards the war-mongrel. However they found it very confusing that she was attracted to a man she was scared to death of. Jean's face immediately went red at the sight of the man. As stable as the man remained, his slump shoulders and his flushed face told her he couldn't be in his right mind.

"G-good evening, Lieutenant Colonel."

The colonel smirked at the timid Major Sergeant. "You're lookin' fine today, Ms. Sullivan." a small hiccup escaped from his breath. Jean trembled, staring into the Lieutenant Colonel's pale blue eyes. He just stumbled over her, with a smirk on his face. Normally he would either give her one of those heartless stares, immediately giving her some work to finish off. She was frightened, worried that he could swing his mood any minute since he was an unpredictable man in his drunken state. He stepped forward towards her; she stepped back. A soft chill ran up her spine when she found herself back-to-back with the door ridge of her room. Archer pressed firmly against her, his hands against the wall. The grin on his face looked menacing; this couldn't be good. "I can't believe a woman as hot as you are is still single."

A comment like that from his lips was unheard of. Especially about Jean, since the war has put her into terrible conditions: She was underweight; she had dainty brown hair; her eyes were withered at the bottom; just nothing much to look at really.

She sheepishly asked "Excuse me sir, are you drunk?"

Archer chuckled, "Lil' bit."

Jean mumbled under her breath, "Dammit, he went over himself again."

Surprisingly, the drunk was able to hear her remark. He drew his face close to hers, his lips dragging across her right cheek. "Lil' bit..."

Jean immediately twitched. He was definitely out of his right mind. The hiccups were a definite sign as well. Hoping not to anger him in his stupor, she tried to slip into her room without him noticing, "Y-you don't say..." Before she could get anywhere, Archer forced his tongue into her mouth, stealing a kiss. She could taste the liquor in his mouth, as his tongue searching her mouth. She immediately blushed, everyone staring at the couple.

She tried to shove Archer off, parting the kiss, "Lieutenant Colonel, what the hell are you doing?!" As strong as her affections were towards him, there was no way she could accept something like this. If he weren't in such a drunken state, he probably would have shot her down for humiliating him in public; she knew how the man worked. Looking at him the wrong way could get one demoted.

However, this did not stop the soldier from his erotic nature, "Heh, something wrong, Sullivan?" his slender hands slid down her nightgown, seizing her bony waist.

His breath heated up her neck, locking his lips against the sides. He spoke tenderly to her, "You feel so nice..."

"Archer... Stop it..." She had longed for him for the longest of time, but this wasn't right; not in the condition he was in at the moment. He seemed to ignore her, as he continued to push her into her room. Even after the raging war, he was still in mint condition. He always overpowered his victims, this case being her, easily. Locking the door behind him, he made his way from her neck back to her lips. He moaned, forcing his body against Jean.

"Lieutenant Colonel, stop it! You're drunk, dammit!" Her words were almost cut off when Frank invaded her mouth once again. No longer able to push him off, she whimpered, sliding her hands down his chest.

She was giving in to the temptations brought upon her. As much as she wanted to stop what was about to happen, deep inside she was beginning to enjoy this.

Her body began to heat up in the intensity, but continued to whimper pleading one last time, "Archer, please... Stop it..."

Ignoring her plea, Archer began to remove the strings keeping Jean's nightgown on with his teeth. The cloth began to loosen around her body, slightly slipping off. At this point, there was no turning back; Archer had complete control over her from this point on.

Archer picked Jean up, carrying over to her bed. She closed her eyes as he laid her down, hoping to get the moment over with; hoping she wouldn't die afterwards once he was sober and aware of the incident. Archer ran his fingers up her leg, pushing her gown up until she was stripped of it. Her body was not dangerously skinny, but surely underweight, however Archer did not seem to notice this in his drunken state. He slipped his military jacket off. Being so close to him, she could smell the whiskey in his breath.

Moments later, he was stripped and beginning the act. Jean was amazed how Archer could keep his body in such shape after the war. He kissed every square inch of her body. Jeans body began to ache, but this had been the moment she had been waiting for. She wanted more, no longer understanding why she wanted to stop something like this; but this did not mean she was still afraid of the moments that could possibly come.

Sweat now covered her body as Archer began having his way with her. He was rough, and she was timid; she would no longer fight back, nor could she. She gripped her hands into his dark hair as he began to nibble areas around her breast. Seconds felt like minutes; minutes like hours. Her body burned, Her chest heaved, trying to withstand the lieutenant colonel's weight. Archer raced his tongue against her malnourished neck and to her ear.

He whispered softly, "So tell me, Jean." a tiny hiccup could be heard over Jean's heavy breathing. Frank continued, "Do I frighten you?"

Jean was not able to answer such a question with words, but replied with a small whine. Frank chuckled, silencing her by means of his tongue, parting the kiss after what seemed like a minute or two of warring tongues.

He grinned, caressing his flushed face across Jean's cheeks, "Either way, are you ready...?"

Jean had no choice but to nod; refusing his request was not an option. She clamped her eyes shut as he began to feed her. It hurt so much yet it was craving. Her mouth began to gape. She wanted to scream, but she could hardly reach her voice, making only a faint cry. Archer began to penetrate her deeper, his breath heating her neck. "So tell me, Major Sergeant," he grinned, "Do you like that?" She felt like she could only cry out in response, but she managed to only whimper out "Ah… Please…" She was rather afraid she was not going to last and pass out. She gripped tightly to his shoulders, her breath cut short. Her heart was racing, she had never been so close to Archer in such a manner, nor had she ever expected to in her years. Frank panted as he began to subside feeding her, though it felt like an eternity as it began to stop. He gave her one last deep kiss before finishing his work. Both were breathing heavily afterwards, covered in sweat. Frank got up, slipping into his slacks. Jean remained laying in bed, her bare chest heaving; sweat trickled down her forehead.

Zipping up his pants, Frank grinned at the exhausted woman, "Well..." he unleashed a small hiccup, sliding his shirt over his arms, "That was rather... intense."

Jean was rather surprised he wasn't exhausted; she had nearly passed out during the action. Not another word spoken between the two, Jean watched her love placed on his uniform and headed out the door. She closed her eyes, thinking about the event that just happened, and fell asleep.

Waking up the next morning, Jean rubbed the crust from her eyes. She began to wonder if everything that she thought she endured last night was all a dream. However, the fading pain in her lower stomach, as well as on her neck and other parts of her body remained, providing enough evidence that was anything but a dream.

Even the taste of Archer's liquor had kept settled in her mouth. Getting out of bed, Jean examined her nude body from the mirror. Hickies were located all over her neck and shoulders; some were faded around her small breast.

She found a white shirt and some jeans of her crumpled in the corner of her room on the floor. Her belly somersaulted as she picked them off the floor. Aside from the pain, she felt rather fluttery within her stomach. After getting dressed, she headed towards the door, hoping to buy some breakfast. She stopped as she heard familiar footsteps nearby, Archer's footsteps, to be exact. Her heart began to beat faster as the sound of his footsteps grew louder. Jean began to think how she would be punished for something she could not pull herself out of; for tainting Archer's pride. She was expecting to hear the footsteps stop at her doorstep, as well as a knock at her door. However the speed of the pace began to rise. Surprised, Jean heard the footsteps pass her door and stop at the staircase. She cracked her door open a tad bit to see Archer kneeling over a barrel, vomiting, as another soldier tried to support him.

The soldier chuckled, smacking Archer on the back, "Hell, never expected to see the mighty Archer outmatched by a little hangover."

Hobbling back on his feet, Archer growled at the soldier "…Shut up." However, his stomach churned as he fell back on his knees, clinging to the rims of the barrel. Other soldiers stared at their leader as his stomach rejected whatever was inside.

The soldier behind him shrugged, handing a rag to Frank to wipe whatever remained on his mouth, "Well, we told you not to overdo yourself this time."

His throat burning at this point, Archer snarled hoarsely, "I swear, if I didn't have this damned headache, I'd be demoting your sorry ass right now." Jean shuddered at Archer's cold mood, though she was used to seeing such an attitude from him. However, he was usually more calm and collected than this. Still hoping to get some detail about last night, she continued to eavesdrop on her superior.

"Dammit," Frank grumbled, gripping his forehead, "How much did I drink last night…?"

The soldier, shocked, answered, "You mean you don't _know_? You had probably four pints of hardcore liquor last night!"

"Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?" Archer snapped at the underling soldier, "I can't remember shit from last night."

"Ah!" Jean cupped her mouth, hoping no one heard her small outburst. As the two began to look back, Jean immediately closed her door. She leaned up against her wall, sighing in relief. He remembered nothing of the incident She slid her back down the wall, "…Thank God."

…And thank you for reading that load of garbage, (despite how much I like it, it's garbage.) Well, it's around May right now, and I have been considering lengthening this into a full story.


End file.
